the saints can't help me now
by nienors
Summary: She's not sure when she started wanting this, but she knows that it has been a long while. Eleven/Amy.


_A/N: written for the eleven-era kink meme at livejournal_.

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As per usual, they're running for their lives. She darts after him through a marketplace in on a planet she can't currently remember the name of, the sun hot against her shoulders. Not far behind her are palace guards, shouting and twisting through the crowded plaza. The heat is oppressive, the sand is everywhere, and (not for the first time) Amy Pond contemplates what she's gotten herself into. She trips over a rock, but before she can hit the ground, he's already got her hand in his, pulling her upright. They keep running and she concludes that no, she doesn't regret it at all.

The Doctor doesn't let go of her, and after some more weaving through the throngs of people, he makes a sharp left and pulls her through the doorway of an abandon storefront. Inside, it's cool and dark, save for the streams of light flooding through the shattered front windows. He pins her against the wall of a darkened corner next to a bookcase, just out of sight of the street. She's panting wildly (they've done an awful lot of running, there are people trying to kill them, his body is flush against hers) and his hand quickly covers her mouth. Somewhere along the way he lost his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Her hair falls over her left shoulder, tousled from running against the wind. She exhales against his hand and his eyes shift away from the window to her face.

His expression is unreadable, but she can tell that his mind is working on something, processing something. He doesn't look away from her and she's only vaguely conscious of someone shouting in the crowded street.

_It's all about you_, he had said. _Everything_.

After a minute, he abruptly takes a step back and turns to look out the window. Apparently, they're (relatively) safe now because he says, "I told you. Don't. Wander. Off." His voice is low and she strains to hear it.

Still leaning against the wall, she tosses her hair defiantly. "This was my fault, but I still stand by what I did."

He turns on his heel to face her and when she sees the anger on his face, she's never been more aware of the thousands of things that she'll never know about him. Her eyes narrow and she makes for the door, but he's already there to block her exit. What happens next is this:

She collides against him, and tries to push past, but he catches her wrist and refuses to let go. She glares at him, he glares back, and like that they stay until she feels his thumb lightly brush against her skin. It might have been an accident, a mistake, but her eyes widen and he brings his other hand up to her face and she's almost ashamed of how fast her eyes flutter close, how fast she leans into him.

Almost ashamed.

When he doesn't move, she pulls away. He's still got that expression and she's about wander off again out the door into the sun, but then she finds herself against a bookshelf of an abandon bookshop on a desert planet she still can't remember the name of, the Doctor's mouth upon hers, one of his hands in her hair, the other on her hip. He maneuvers them backwards into the shadows, out of the light, out of sight.

She's quick to take the initiative, to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer, but when he bites her bottom lip, she lets out a small gasp. His tongue dips into her mouth and she rocks her hips against his, kissing him back with equal fervor. Adrenaline and arousal take over her better judgment and she likens the growing sensation in her spine to electricity. She tries to reach for his trousers, but his hands are so bloody distracting and move from her hair to her shoulders to her back to her hips and further below. Her kisses get sloppy and she lets out a small squeak when he lifts her up so she's half-perched on the shelf.

His fingers run along her inner thigh, just below the hem of her skirt, and she throws back her head and hisses, "_There_." He drags his lips along the length her throat while his fingers ghost up her leg until he finds her knickers. She sharply inhales when he pushes them aside and slides inside of her. She's breathing shakily, grinding her hips down on his fingers, until he flicks his thumb and she has to muffle herself in the collar of his shirt. She's not sure when she started wanting this, but she knows that it's been a long while.

When he removes his hands, she regains a shred of focus and reaches again for his trousers as he tugs her knickers down her legs. She kisses him eagerly when she feels him hard against her, wrapping one leg around his waist. Her left hand tangles itself in his hair, the right goes to the book sitting right next to her head on the shelf. She feels warm and wet and the anticipation is enough to make her scream.

She opens her eyes as he positions himself and she gives him a small nod before he thrusts into her, slow and hard. His eyes don't leave hers as he pulls out and then enters her again and again. She raises her hips to meet him and watches his expression change when she links her ankles together, bringing him even deeper into her. She clings to him.

He whispers something in a language she doesn't recognize into her mouth and suddenly, she's there. She bites her bottom lip and closes her eyes, arching her back against the wall. It doesn't take long for him to follow.

She leans her forehead on his shoulder, both of them breathing heavily in the dark. He's still inside of her and she's struck with a wonderful sense of fulfillment.

Outside, she begins again to hear the people in the street.


End file.
